


Keeping a Boyfriend (Featuring the One and Only Vagabond)

by Jyndter



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, GTA V AU, Immortal Fake AH Crew, Immortality, M/M, gta v - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 03:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13802139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jyndter/pseuds/Jyndter
Summary: He’s just your local freelance hitman working some part time jobs to keep himself entertained between actual jobs- you know, the fun kind, with murder. After a few hundred, maybe thousand, years of life, everything loses its value and he feels only the crushing weight of the immortality pushed onto him. Then, a young handsome Brit stumbles into his regular bar, hammered already, and leaves his phone number. Is it realistic for the Vagabond, with his long past and dangerous behavior, to keep a boyfriend like Gavin?





	Keeping a Boyfriend (Featuring the One and Only Vagabond)

Another Wednesday night at his favorite local bar, and another Diet Coke to go with it. The place was rather dark, with weathered wooden floor, walls, and bar, but it made the atmosphere cozy and inviting, even for something who had no interest in alcohol. It had your average dart board and pool table (oh, how Ryan loved the sound of the constant _clacks_ coming from every game), as well as a kind bartender, who didn’t talk much but always made sure your drinks were to your liking, and remembered your usual.

After a hard day’s work, whether it be perfectly legal (waiting tables, working the customer service desk at the local department store) or.. Questionably… legal (assisting in bank heists, hunting down a target, strangling a customer at the customer service desk at the local department store), Ryan was always glad to come back to Jerry’s Pub, if nothing else but to make it feel like he wasn’t a complete loner who had no chance at making friends beside the nice old ladies in his bi-weekly knitting circle.

Well, whatever. It was his curse to be bored for eternity; what else was he supposed to do?

The sound of the door being slammed open brought Ryan’s gaze up from his drink to the man that just made the noise happen. He could see a few others look up at the tan, skinny gentleman, wearing a blue button down shirt and a pair of gold sunglasses, at this time of night.

“Oops! ‘M sorry- lighter ‘n I thought,” the man said to no one in particular, before noticing the only person sitting at the bar. By his speech and the way he walked, Ryan could tell he was absolutely drunk already and should be laying down, not stumbling into a bar. He definitely shouldn’t be sitting in a seat that close to Ryan, or taking off his sunglasses to start a conversation with Ryan, oh boy...

“So how’s your day been, lad?” he said, before expressing a look of confusion. “no, wait, you’re not a ‘lad’ really, what’re you?”

The man had the thickest British accent Ryan had ever heard, and his breath smelled disgustingly like a mixture of beer and whiskey. Maybe rum, too? Jesus, why has he drunken so much tonight?

Ryan looked to Jerry for help, who had been watching this strange man since his arrival. He poured a glass of water and placed it in front of them for him to drink.

“Ah! Thanks, what prompt service,” he said, taking a large swig. If he could tell it wasn’t alcohol, he didn’t say anything, nor did he acknowledge the fact that he hadn’t even asked Jerry for anything. “So, uh, anyway,” he continued, turning back to Ryan, “Your day? Good? Bad?”

Just thinking a few moments ago about how he would never have any real connections with people, Ryan decided to humor the man who wouldn’t remember a word of this conversation tomorrow morning anyway. “Not bad. Got some nice tips from waiting tables today.”

“Ah! A waiter?” he asked. “Never been one. Couldn’t handle workin’ like that- too much stress.”

The man struggled to get that sentence out, but was apparently determined to make this conversation continue. “Enh, you?” he said, as if he was speaking perfectly clear.

“Me?”

“Yea! I’m Gavin, enh, Free, you, mate?”

Ryan held back a little laugh. He was free? From what? What a drunk idiot. “Ryan,” he said, now understanding the question, and took the hand that Gavin had offered. Gavin now smiled so wide, it was like Ryan told him some really good news, like he had won the lottery, not just his name.

“So um, eh,” Gavin struggled, thinking of the words to say, but finding them eventually. “Your eyes are like, really blue.”

Alright, Ryan couldn’t hold back a laugh this time. Something about this guy- Gavin- was just so amusing. “Yeah, they’re blue. Yours are green. We all have eye colors.”

Gavin showed a smile, before a slight look of confusion. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why do we all have colored eyes?”

Well, Ryan wasn’t a scientist, but he kind of knew the answer. “It’s called genetics, you get genes from your parents-”

“Well, _yeah_ ! Of course you do, I’m not a bloody idiot, but, _why_ ? Like, why are yours… so… _blue_ ?” Gavin emphasized this point by getting a little too close to Ryan’s face and staring into his eyes for a solid few seconds. Quietly, or at least what Gavin _thought_ to be quietly, he added “pretty…”

It was either because he was just really drunk, or attempting, very poorly, to flirt, while being really drunk.

An obnoxiously loud ringtone broke Gavin’s concentration, and Ryan watched him pull his phone out of his pocket, look at the caller ID with furrowed brows, trying to grasp the concept of reading, and eventually pick up.

“Myeah?” he asked, brows still furrowed. Ryan heard the muffle of someone continuously talking on the other end, while the look of annoyance just grew on Gavin’s face. When Gavin didn’t reply with anything, the voice on the other end only grew louder.

“Shhhhh,” Gavin moved the phone to talk just into the microphone without listening. “Shhhhhh. Quiet. Be very quiet. It’s quiet time, Michael. Quieeeet.”

The voice- Michael- yelled something else before the call ended, and Ryan expected Gavin to explain something to continue his chattiness this evening. Gavin only asked Jerry for a pen, and, taking one of the paper coasters on the counter, scribbled something down.

Ryan could only assume what it said before Gavin put the pen down and slid the coaster to him, confirming his assumption. He watched the drunk Brit pick up his sunglasses, saunter (try to, anyway) to the door, and, remembering how he slammed it open earlier, gently pulled on the handle to leave.

Ryan just looked at the coaster in disbelief. What the hell was wrong with that man? Their exchange lasted not even ten minutes, and he left his phone number with a little smiley face (nose included), and “Gav.”

The first thought Ryan had was happy. The whole situation was just atrocious. A drunken man stumbled in here solely to hit on him and leave his number. Not only that, but he had expected something out of it. How… silly.

The second thought Ryan had was consideration. Maybe he would shoot him a text tomorrow. Get to know the man when he was sober. Get a friend. Maybe even a boyfriend?

The third thought cut off thought number two quite abruptly. Was Ryan even being serious? He was the fucking _Vagabond_ , a hitman with no feelings, killing for money and even fun, sometimes.

Who also brought homemade lemon squares (sometimes a special raspberry pie for Margaret, it was her favorite) to his Tuesday afternoon knitting circle.

So, no, he’d have no problem keeping a boyfriend. Friend. Gavin was just drunk. He wasn’t thinking straight (literally); he didn’t know what he would have gotten himself into.

But then again, there wouldn’t be a problem with just getting lunch or something, right? Just two dudes hanging out?

Hm.

That sounded a lot like a date.

Jerry had started to take his glass in an offer to fill it up again, but Ryan denied, leaving the proper payment plus a generous tip (he loved having the money to do that, even if it was just a few glasses of soda) and making his way out to the street.

He kept debating with himself about the whole “Gavin” situation on the walk back to his apartment, eventually deciding to ignore him completely. He wouldn’t remember anything the next morning, wonder who the hell this “Ryan” guy is texting him, and shoot him down anyway because hey, maybe he already had a girlfriend? Or that Michael he was talking to, maybe he was dating him?

He wondered why the thoughts were so poisonous to his mind as he readied himself for bed. He laid awake longer than usual. Eventually, he picked up his phone and added a new contact- “Gavin :^)”, before rolling over and finally falling asleep.

His dreams were awful, though.

He was usually trapped under the water, fighting against the chains he felt around his wrists and ankles, the light becoming farther and farther away, the salt water burning his eyes, the burning in his lungs from lack of air, and the eventual surrender to “death” as his lungs filled with water, yet he was still alive, feeling every moment of pain that drowning gave him.

And tonight, it began like such. Except, before the submit to darkness, he was breathing again, though still underwater, and the chains broke. Next to him was Gavin in the same position, the choking on water, the trying to reach for Ryan and ask for help, but confined by metal and weight, being dragged down into the abyss…

And Ryan woke in a cold sweat, for the first time in a while, being _scared_ of his nightmare. What the hell? He had talked to Gavin for ten minutes, but he supposed it was the hours of afterthought that brought the dream to him. He looked at his bedside clock, and, seeing it was nearly 5:30 am, he couldn’t get himself to try and fall asleep again.

He made himself a cup of coffee, popped some leftover pizza from a few nights ago into the microwave, and sat at his kitchen table. His lonely kitchen table, tasting the grease that he wished could have killed him years ago.

He spent the next few hours watching TV, watering his plants, thinking about voicing his thoughts to them but decided against it to not kill them with negative emotions. Just killing time.

After all, he had nothing but.

And, he had to wait for his job today. Ten o’clock, approximate arrival of an important witness to some case at the courthouse, blah blah blah… he was hired to make them dead, not be concerned with details.

The job came and went. Easy; one shot, pack up, and leave. He only awaited payment, which came two hours later, and treated himself to a nice sandwich and soup for lunch. Without worries of getting to work today, as he had the day off, his thoughts still drifted to Gavin, and multiple times he restrained himself from just texting his newest phone contact a simple “hey, what’s up?”

Stupid, stupid. He’s thought about the drunk bastard enough.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to simply delete his contact information.

Maybe a walk would help him clear his head? _Or maybe the universe will let me run into him by coincidence,_ he thought to himself, setting his course to the nearest park to enjoy the nice weather. Maybe Gavin was out and about, too. Maybe he had a dog to walk? Or more than one? Or maybe he ran a dog walking business- that wasn’t very stressful, right?

Or maybe Gavin was allergic to dogs, or cats, or maybe he had a cat. Maybe his apartment didn’t allow pets. Did he live in an apartment? Maybe he lived in one of those big houses in the Northern part of Los Santos.

What was he doing now? Did he have plants like Ryan did? What was his favorite color? DId he always wear button-downs like the one he wore last night? Did he always wear those ridiculous golden sunglasses?

Part of Ryan desperately hoped that Gavin was thinking of him, too, but another part of him spoke the truth- they were complete strangers! He was so shitfaced he probably didn’t even remember his own name this morning.

They were just _strangers_ . Gavin was drunk, and Ryan was clearly thinking too much about this stupid man with his pretty green eyes and idiotic, _handsome_ face.

Oof. The nail in the coffin.

Gavin _was_ handsome, but acknowledging it made everything worse. Ryan would never see him again. He couldn’t text or call him, he just _couldn’t_.

But why not? Gavin gave him his number for a reason, right?

Ugh, this debate again. Ryan hated it all.

Time to move himself and his dumb thoughts to Jerry’s, as the sun had begun to set already, Ryan realised. Just how long did he spend thinking of Gavin on that park bench?

Upon seeing the usual non-alcoholic customer walk in, Jerry got him his favorite (read: the only thing he ever drank,) and went back to his other patrons. It was a little busier than most Thursday nights, but Ryan still got his usual seat.

He sat there keeping to himself, like always. Hours passed, and though he tried to think about his plans for the next few days, what jobs he had when, what to get Jeanette for her 50th wedding anniversary, his mind kept returning to, well, you know.

That drunk bastard, Gavin.

As Ryan pulled out his phone to look at the message draft he had, for maybe the hundredth time that day, he heard the front door slam open.

“Ah, oops! I’m sorry about that again, it’s so damn light!” said a very familiar voice.

A voice with a British accent, but more coherent this time.

Ryan couldn’t believe his eyes. Why-how-what was Gavin doing here?

Gavin noticed Ryan in the same place as last night, smiled, and made his way over. “Is it alright if I sit here?” He asked, noticeably sober.

“Ah, of course.” Ryan said, putting his phone down, eager to hear what Gavin would say next.

“Alright, I was hoping I’d find you here again! Ehm, this is weird, I guess, but I wanted to apologize for yesterday?” Ryan’s heart sunk. That wasn’t what he was expecting. “Being a drunk arsehole barging in here and uh, well, Michael said I was being a right prick but he wasn’t even here and I… don’t know. I kind of remember you, though. You were nice. I think. And uh, I gave you my number? That was weird and I didn’t even consider um… anyway…” Gavin looked away, a little red in the face, stuck as to what to say from here. It was quite the contrast from his previous self.

“And you’re back?” Ryan asked, more flatly than he intended. Why was he back to just say sorry?

“Enh, yeah. To apologize, and… uh… um…” He refused to look at Ryan. “I want to have a real conversation with you? Like, a sober one.”

When Ryan didn’t reply immediately, Gavin started to get up, saying “Nevermind, this was awkward and I don’t really know what I was thinkin-”

“No, please stay.”

Gavin looked at him in surprise.

“I mean, I was actually just about to text you,” Words were coming out of Ryan’s mouth before he had enough time to process all of them. “I mean, I’ve wanted to talk to you all day; your behavior was… intriguing.” _Jesus Christ, Ryan, did you really just say that?_ He thought, but Gavin sat down again nervously and began to talk.

“Oh, yeah?” He gave a nervous laugh. “Then I guess I can feel better about asking if I could start over by introducing myself properly?”

This made Ryan smile genuinely. _Please_ , he thought. “Go on.”

“My name is Gavin Free, I’m uh, a Gemini, and I think you have lovely blue eyes.” He held out his hand, similar to the first time they met, and Ryan took it, replying with:

“My name is Ryan Haywood, I think introducing yourself with your zodiac sign is odd, but charming coming from you, and your eyes are a nice shade of green.”

Gavin smiled, relaxing a little, “I’m glad you think it’s charming, but I want to make it clear I couldn’t just say you had nice eyes, I had to say something before that, yeah?”

“Last night you just went straight for the eyes.”

“Oh, did I? Sorry. They’re just… really blue and hard to ignore.”

“Drunk you made a point of that.”

“How much of a point?”

“Stared me down for a good thirty seconds.”

“Oh, God,” Gavin looked down, thinking about what else he could have possibly said to this man.

“It’s all good. Would you like a drink now?” Ryan asked him, seeing as Jerry had appeared across the counter to ask him the same question.

Gavin politely declined his offer. “Actually, I was just walking past this place on my way home- I have work early tomorrow morning and should probably be getting back now, but it was lovely getting to see you, Ryan.”

This made Ryan smile, and taking his paper coaster and a pen from his pocket, he wrote out his number with a smiley face and his name, the way Gavin did the previous night. Handing it to Gavin, he wished him safe travels and a good night.

So, the idea of Gavin wasn’t as hopeless as Ryan thought. His dreams were peaceful, none too good or too bad to even remember when he woke up. And, upon waking, Ryan found two texts from “Gavin :^)”, saying “good morning!” and “dinner tomorrow night, my treat?”

“Sounds great :^)” he replied.

For the first time in a long time, Ryan Haywood, the _Vagabond_ , had something nice he genuinely looked forward to.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this idea for months now, with no motivation to do anything with it, and I figured why not try to write something? I'm not a writer by any means, but I hope you enjoyed it- let me know!  
> Hopefully I'll continue to be inspired enough to finished this- I've got a long road planned for these bois.


End file.
